


Interlude

by grelleswife



Series: Dadbastian Week 2019 [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dadbastian Week, Gen, Loyalty, Parent-Child Relationship, Platonic Relationships, Sebastian is softer than he should be, but i make no apologies, filling in the blanks, not sebaciel, trash demon will carry his babey human as long as the earl needs him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21483355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: After fleeing the carriage transporting them to prison, Sebastian and his young master share a brief interlude of calm before the other servants come to "collect their wages," and the demon engages in a moment of self-reflection.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive
Series: Dadbastian Week 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547587
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dadbastian Week "loyalty" prompt. 
> 
> This is a fic that attempts to fill in a "blank" left in canon, namely the moment during Chapter 145 where Sebastian carries his young master to safety after the infamous twin reveal. It's way too soft to be canon compliant, but I wanted to explore them enjoying a quiet moment before the Phantomhive siblings' battle began in earnest.

A chill, damp mist wreathed the forest, creating a nebulous haze that made the way treacherous for mortals. Thankfully, this status did not apply to Sebastian Michaelis, who walked at a brisk but dignified pace (as a proper butler should) towards the other Phantomhive servants. He could sense their souls nearby, waiting expectantly for their master. Human loyalty was an illogical phenomenon, but a truly remarkable one. Here these fools were, “collecting wages” that they might not live to cash in, all for the sake of the weary child lying limply in Sebastian’s arms. The disgraced earl—well, no longer earl, not after this waking nightmare of a day—the _boy_ was as alarmingly fragile as a baby bird that had plummeted from its nest. He was reeling from the shock of seeing the reanimated corpse of his twin and the poisoned memories, the _guilt_ that sight had inspired. Anguish wracked his tainted spirit, steeping it in pain. Sebastian tried to console himself with the thought that such a unique experience would add zest to this young soul, and yet…

_I failed him._

The acknowledgement of defeat festered like a wound that refused the heal. Defending his master against enemies was one of the defining articles of Sebastian’s contract. He took _pride_ in maintaining this aesthetic. Yet Sebastian, one of hell’s nobility, had stood powerless while that deranged old reaper sniggered down at him from the staircase, smugly flaunting the “real” Ciel Phantomhive. Sebastian had experienced the same horror, frustration, and bafflement as his young master, but he could do nothing. After all, most of the accusations levelled against the young master were true, and Sebastian could not lie, nor could he do a thing to mitigate Miss Elizabeth’s betrayal, the servants’ hurt confusion, or the boorish interference of Scotland Yard. All the butler could do was bide his time while he and the Watchdog were clapped in irons and hauled off in a carriage with Bravat Sky, waiting for the moment when Bardroy, Mey Rin, and Finnian would come to their aid.

_This is our nadir. _They were fugitives now, chased out of the manor Sebastian himself had rebuilt for his master.

_Our backs are to the wall_. Sebastian cursed the Undertaker from the bottom of his black heart. He had been unfailingly sure of himself before crossing blades with that reaper, but Sebastian, for the first time in his life, was wracked with uncertainty. _What if we lose, what if I can’t protect this child…?_

“Sebastian?”

His master’s voice was wispy and feeble.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I didn’t give you an order to defend me back there in the carriage, so why did you?”

A fair question. Sebastian looked down into the blue eye that, despite the darkness of damnation behind it, still shone inquisitively. Yes, why _had_ he engaged in a pointless verbal sparring match with Bravat? It hadn’t been necessary to ensure their escape. But Sebastian had felt a scalding-hot anger when the snide fortune teller taunted his master. After having to stand by uselessly while the boy suffered, something had snapped inside him, prompting him to return the taunts with his own ripostes, sharp as knives. **I** _have license to gibe the Watchdog, but I won’t let insolent curs mock my boy._

His _boy_? What in the nine circles? _This day has sorely taxed my faculties. I’m his servant, not his father, for hell’s sake._

“Because I felt like it, I suppose.” Demonic whims didn’t necessarily have a particular reason behind them. Sebastian’s grip tightened protectively, nonetheless.

The shrewd blue eye shot him a knowing look, seeming to say, _I don’t believe it for a minute_. However, his master didn’t press the issue, contenting himself with a hoarse laugh. “Damn demon.” He rested his head against Sebastian’s chest and gave him the ghost of a smile.

The rest of their walk to the carriage was conducted in silence. As he approached, Sebastian set his jaw. _No matter how far we must journey together, I will carry you every step of the way, young master. _His lordship’s crown had rusted and crumbled to dust, and hope was slim, but Sebastian’s loyalty would not falter.


End file.
